Blood and Daggers
by ROSD
Summary: When Aragorn and Legolas set out to infiltrate a powerful assassin's guild, they find themselves thrown into the plot of a demonic overlord bent upon their destruction. Not Slash!
1. Chapter 1 Taking Risks

**Disclaimer: We do not own Lord of the Rings, or any of the characters, places, etc. that are part of it. We do, however, own Andre and Meric, whom we take full credit for.  
  
Author's Note: Finally! The story I've wanted to write since I first started posting here! Reviews are lovely and criticisms are welcome!  
  
Blood and Daggers  
  
Chapter 1-Taking Risks**  
  
Meric paced along the dark alley street, every once in a while impatiently running a slim hand through his stark white hair. Pausing a few feet from the entrance to the alleyway that led onto the main street, Meric studied the few people that were up and about at this late hour. Cloaked travelers passed now and then, sometimes alone, and sometimes-in groups of twos or threes. Meric pulled his cowl over his head, completely obscuring his blindingly bright hair that made him an easy target for the assassins and cutthroats that dominated the streets during the night.  
  
Eglatier, a city known mostly for its housing of the largest assassins guild in the south, was dangerous enough during the day. To bring attention to one's self during the night would almost definitely earn you a knife in the back. Meric had lived in Eglatier for nearly five years now, and, while he did hold a high rank in the assassin's guild, he had gained his position by never taking any chances.  
  
Pulling his cloak tighter around him, Meric growled inwardly. He was late, as usual. No doubt he had gotten himself into trouble over something stupid. Grinding his teeth, he edged toward the main street, deep brown eyes scanning left and right anxiously. Presently, a broad-shouldered man came stomping down the street, muttering loud enough to wake the dead, or so Meric thought. The few people who passed the man by glanced at him curiously, then shrugged and went on their way. If someone wanted bring every pickpocket in the city down upon them, well that was their business. And in Eglatier, you were smart to mind your own, and leave others to their own fate.  
  
Rolling his eyes at the man's antics, Meric quietly crept up behind him as he passed the alley's entrance. Sliding a thin, wicked-looking dagger from his belt, he moved, almost faster than the mortal eye could see, and brought the dagger up to his throat, stopping just short of exposed flesh. The man stopped suddenly; had he moved even an inch further, the dagger would have bit deeply into his throat, most likely killing him instantly.  
  
Then man seemed quite unconcerned about his near death experience, however, and chuckled softly.  
  
"Very well, Meric. Point taken. I'll be more quiet next time." He said, low enough so that only Meric could hear him. Meric smiled beneath his cowl, and quickly took the dagger from the man's throat, and sheathed it.  
  
"I'm glad you catch on quickly; next time you won't find me holding a knife to your throat." He said, crossing his arms over his chest, as the man turned around grinning broadly. The two looked at each other for several moments before both moved forward and embraced, both grinning like fools.  
  
"It's great to see you again, Andre." Meric said letting out the little warmth he harboured to greet his best friend, and long time companion.  
  
"Well, elf, I have to admit, I missed you too." Andre beamed, flicking back Meric's cowl to reveal his pointed ears. Meric scowled and readjusted his hood. Being an elf in Eglatier was not a good thing at all. Andre just shook his head; his dark brown, almost-black hair becoming messier than it already was, if that was even possible. And hair colour wasn't the only thing that made the two unlikely friends.  
  
Both were around the same height, Meric being short for an elf, and Andre being tall for a Man. Meric's eyes were deep brown, and serious, making him appear to always be deep in thought, while Andre had dark blue laughing eyes, that caused quite a few people to think he was mocking them, even on the rare occasion when he wasn't.  
  
"So, I'll take the bait. Why are you so ... upset?" Meric asked pulling Andre into the alley where he had been in order to avoid anymore notice.  
  
"No reason." Andre shrugged, brushing off the subject. "Just the usual. Guy didn't like how I was looking at him, made me mad, punched him in the nose, started a riot. Nothing new."  
  
"Ah." The elf said, rolling his eyes. "And will this fight be the talk of the town like that one you started in Veduimir? Let me think. Ah yes, that fight caused a political uproar, and a rebellion that left the inhabitants with no food for the winter. Normally, the fact that a mere human pulled off such a feat would astound me, but I've found that nothing you do is surprising."  
  
Andre burst out laughing. "What would you have me do? The man had insulted my mother!"  
  
Raising his eyebrows, Meric frowned. "You call far too much attention to your self. Attention we do not need! Especially here."  
  
"Alright, alright! Calm down, my friend. No more tavern brawls." Andre said, raising his hands up in defense, but still grinning. "So, do we have an assignment, or what?"  
  
"At the moment? No." Meric said softly, then paused looking around to see if someone was listening, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You know that Dagnirion has the gift of foresight."  
  
"A rumour only. There's no truth in it!" Andre protested. The possibility that the master of the assassin's guild could look into the future was frightening; many feared Dagnirion, and not just because he headed the guild.  
  
"Not foresight like that of the elves, or wizards. I do know that he's dabbled in some of the Dark Arts, and scrying into the future isn't as difficult as its made out to be." Meric said, quietly. "Anyway, it appears that he foresaw that we would be of some use to him in the near future. He did not say who we were to take out, but I suspect he knows."  
  
"The two of us? Together?" Andre asked, suspiciously. "Something doesn't ring true here."  
  
"Would you like to disobey a direct order from Dagnirion? Or need I remind you of what happened to Mundo?"  
  
Andre blanched as he recalled what Dagnirion had done to the Mundo, a man who had refused an assignment once. Unfortunately, both Meric and Andre had both been present for his ... execution.  
  
"I wasn't thinking about refusing. I have a bad feeling about this." Andre muttered, nervously glancing around into the deep shadows.  
  
"So do I." Meric said, absentmindedly, and then focused back on Andre. "But we haven't a choice. All I was told is that we would be needed for an assignment, and to stay in the city until we are summoned."  
  
Andre sighed. "Alright. Let's just hope we get those summons soon. I want to get out of this city."  
  
Meric grinned wryly. "Why? You didn't kill that man in the tavern back there?"  
  
"Actually, I was worried about the man's wife. Apparently she doesn't take kindly to her husband getting beaten." He pause, and looked thoughtful. "Or perhaps it was the wife I punched? The two looked so much alike I couldn't tell them apart!"  
  
Chuckling softly, the two headed out down the street, slipping into shadows, and becoming one with the night.

---  
  
"So this town, Eglatier, houses an _assassin's guild_?" Aragorn asked, Faramir in disbelief. Faramir looked up, having been fully focused in his work, when Aragorn had come barging in, asking him about something that just about everyone in Minas Tirith knew. Faramir sighed. Yes, Aragorn was his king, and he liked the man very much, but his naivety to the complex political struggles that most of the _peasants_ understood was completely aggravating.  
  
"What was that?" he asked as Aragorn strode forward, slamming a map of the lower regions of Ithilien on top of a still-drying piece of parchment. Well, there goes that document. He thought sarcastically. Nothing important. Just the costs of the renovations for the east section of the city.  
  
"One of my advisors has just informed me that a large assassin's guild is located in this town. Why was I not informed of this immediately?" he demanded. Faramir sighed.  
  
"My lord," he said patiently, as if explaining something to a child. "We are well aware of this guild; it's been around for nearly as long as Minas Tirith!"  
  
"Then why hasn't this problem been solved long ago?" Aragorn asked, heatedly. "Or is keeping a killer home around some insane Gondorian tradition?"  
  
"Please, Aragorn, let me explain." Faramir continued. "This guild has been headed by long line of powerful lords. And still is. To attack this town, or something of the sort, would cause a political upheaval, and maybe even a rebellion. Dagnirion is well liked by most of the nobles, and he has friends in high places. No, you most likely wouldn't lose such a battle, but is that what you want so soon after Sauron's reign? And even if that wasn't so, you'd lose a lot of support of the people."  
  
"But we can't just let them run loose!" Aragorn protested. "There must be something we can do!"  
  
"Nothing that wouldn't cause massive blood shed and/or rebellion. Believe me when I say that attacking Eglatier is pointless." Faramir said, calmly, turning back to his paperwork. Aragorn had indeed ruined his document, and now he would have to start it all over again.  
  
Aragorn fumed, attempting to think up a solution, but he knew that his Steward was right. There really was nothing he could do. He grinned suddenly as inspiration struck him.  
  
"Legolas is to be arriving any day now, correct." Aragorn asked Faramir.  
  
"You know that more than I do, my lord." Faramir replied. "Why?"  
  
"What if Legolas and I visited Eglatier and tried to find a way to stop it. Maybe there's a weakness on the inside we could tweak or something." He said, beginning to pace as ideas bubbled up. Faramir spun around and stared at him in disbelief.  
  
"Are you completely mad?" he said, his voice nearly rising to a shout. "Not only would the two of you be found out, but killed as well. King of Gondor or no."  
  
"Legolas and I have done this sort of thing before. I do not want this guild around so long as I am king." Aragorn protested, unconcerned. Faramir threw up his hands in defeat. Aragorn hadn't even been in Gondor for a year, and already Faramir knew that when he adopted his I'm-not-listening- to-a-word-you-say tone that he was completely unmovable. Like a stupid boulder, Faramir thought wryly. Or a donkey.  
  
Grinning, and apparently pleased at getting his way, Aragorn strode out of the room leaving Faramir behind.  
  
"The council will never allow it!" He called out to Aragorn's retreating figure. Aragorn turned grinning mischievously at the Steward.  
  
"Not if they don't know about it!" He called back, his smile broadening. "Good day, Faramir." He then continued down the hall, humming a tune as he disappeared around a corner. Faramir sank back into his chair, fully annoyed.  
  
"Why me?" he wondered aloud. "What did I do to deserve such treatment?"

---

**Yay! First chapter finished! The second chapter _should_ be up by tomorrow, but if it's not, sorry! Read and Review, please!**


	2. Chapter 2 The Summons and The Quest

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 for full disclaimer.  
  
Author's Note: I'm really, really sorry that this chapter is late, but I added more to it than I planned, and I've been busy. Well, here's chapter two; there's another argument between Aragorn and Faramir, Meric and Andre get their orders, the plot thickens, yeah. So read and review please!  
  
Blood and Daggers  
  
Chapter 2-The Summons and The Quest  
**  
Meric paced the dusty, dank, and small room he and Andre had rented at the Blue Whisker. Round and round the room he paced, muttering darkly, while Andre watched him from the narrow bed, extremely amused.  
  
Meric had been in a bad mood ever since the messenger had come to them earlier that night, and had told them to wait in their rooms until another messenger arrived and they received their orders. Andre chuckled softly as he remembered Meric's livid face at the messenger's words.  
  
"You both are to wait at the Blue Whisker, in your room, at least until midnight. Another man will be there with further instructions." He had been trembling slightly, frightened out of his wits, but doing his best not to show it. And Meric's death glare hadn't helped at all.  
  
"Who will be meeting with us?" he had demanded coldly, unconsciously gripping the hilt of one of the knives he kept at his waist. Andre had rolled his eyes, and then grinned at the messenger.  
  
"No problem, mate. We'll be there." He had said cheerfully, then had quickly steered Meric away back to the inn before he could do worse damage. If there were two things Meric hated the most, it was waiting and being told what to do.  
  
"Calm down, Meric, he'll be here." Andre said after several moments. It wasn't often Andre saw his friend lose his emotionless façade that was a trademark of his people, and he really did enjoy watching him when he did. Meric spun towards him a nasty glare appearing on his face.  
  
"It's already an hour past midnight, Andre! Dagnirion should make sure his lackeys are prompt at least!" he said, so strung up that he didn't notice the door open behind him.  
  
"Perhaps it was because he didn't send one of his lackeys." A chilly voice said quietly from behind him. Meric spun around again, and glared terribly at the intruder.  
  
"Dagnirion." He said quietly, his glare diminishing slightly as he identified the dark-haired man. With hair black as the Void, and skin paler than any Andre had seen before, the guild master looked more like a wraith than a man. His burgundy coloured eyes did nothing to diminish the impression.  
  
"I have need of the two of you." he said his voice sharp and demanding. "I have heard tales of feats you have accomplished together and you will need all the experience to complete the task I have for you."  
  
"And that would be...what? Commandeering a fleet of corsair ships?" Andre joked lightly. Meric and Dagnirion both simply looked at him, and Andre shut his mouth. Not an ounce of humour in either of them, he thought, annoyed.  
  
"Two beings are riding to my hold at this very moment, intent on my destruction." He continued. "I want you to annihilate them."  
  
"Two men?" Meric scoffed. "Well, that shouldn't be too difficult. You could get any cutthroat on the street to comply with that."  
  
"Hardly," Dagnirion replied. "And I said two beings, not Men. One is an elf. Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, renowned for his contribute to the Nine Walkers, and for his superior skill with a bow. His presence would complicate things no matter who the other was, but there is more. With him travels, Elessar, the King of Gondor, and therein lies the problem. Those two together could give me many problems if allowed to live."  
  
"But if we killed Elessar, wouldn't everyone suspect you, or your guild?" Meric said, raising an eyebrow. "That would cause more problems than the other two. And what about Legolas? His father isn't one to sit around and take his death lightly."  
  
"That is precisely why you two are going to kill them. You are an elf, Meric, and they would trust you to an extent for that reason. They would be cautious, of course, and I need you to get close to them to carry out what I have planned." He explained, his eyes gleaming evilly as he spoke. "I want to bring them to my home. I have some ambitious plans for my guild, and information they can provide would be very helpful. But that is merely an afterthought; I can accomplish what I plan without them."  
  
"I thought you wanted them killed." Andre asked bluntly. If he only wanted them captured, why send them? "Annihilated was the word you used, I believe."  
  
Dagnirion smiled coldly, and Andre couldn't help but wince; even Meric looked uncomfortable. "Oh, they will be, but not by you. All I need you two to do is bring them to me. You can meet with them at the edge of Ithilien in two days. Make sure that you gain their trust." He glanced at Meric then, and his smile diminished into a thoughtful glare. "I do not trust elves in anyway. Far too stubborn and difficult for my purposes."  
  
Meric returned his glare evenly, an emotionless mask covering any discomfort he may have had. Dagnirion knew too much about their pasts for either assassins liking, and Andre decided on the spot that after this job was finished, he was moving to the North.

-----  
  
"My lord, this isn't exactly proper conduct. You can't just leave the kingdom without anyone knowing where you're going, and not knowing when you'll be back! It causes panic!" Faramir was far past annoyed by the time Legolas had arrived, and agreed to accompany Aragorn. In fact, he was quite sure he was now a lovely mix of irritation, anger, and worry, with the irritation and anger quickly overriding the worry.  
  
"Everyone believes I'm going to visit your uncle. Really, Faramir, you're acting ridiculous. We'll be fine." Aragorn replied calmly, putting the finishing touches on the packing he had done for the trip.  
  
"You could have at least have taken an escort." Faramir retaliated, weakly. This was about the tenth time they'd had this argument since Aragorn had proposed his insane idea, and the ex-ranger had become even firmer on the subject each time. Why do I bother? Faramir asked himself again. Why?  
  
"We'll be fine." Aragorn repeated. "I've traveled these lands countless times, usually alone, in far more dangerous times, and everything turned out perfectly alright. Stop worrying."  
  
Faramir sighed. As much as he hated the idea, he knew that Aragorn was right. And not only that, ever since the destruction of Sauron, the lands of Middle Earth were far safer than before.  
  
"Alright," Faramir replied, consenting, if only slightly. "Be back quickly, though. Does Lady Arwen know where you're going?"  
  
"She knows enough." Aragorn replied shortly. Ah, Faramir thought gleefully, Arwen wasn't happy that he was going either.  
  
Faramir and Aragorn arrived at the stables shortly, where Legolas was waiting for them, with two horses packed for the journey.  
  
"It's about time, Estel." The blond prince said, grinning. "Did you get lost again?"  
  
"Of course not." Aragorn muttered rolling his eyes. He had only done that once, and only because he had been given wrong directions! It wasn't his fault he had ended up in the lady's bathhouse instead of the library! "Let's just go."  
  
Legolas bowed mockingly, still grinning while Aragorn mounted his chestnut- coloured horse. Then with the grace only elves possess, Legolas swung up easily onto his saddle-less mount settling easily atop his white warhorse. After a small amount of fanfare, and one more argument between Faramir and Aragorn (If you die, whose head do you think it's going to be?!), and the elf and the man were finally off.

-----  
  
"They're late." Meric said shortly, leaning against a tall oak tree at the edge of the Ithilien forest. Dark clouds hung heavy against the deep grey sky, while thunder rolled in the distance. "They were supposed to have arrived yesterday."  
  
"Oh, calm yourself, Meric." Andre said rolling his eyes, while swinging his broadsword around experimentally. "They'll be here."  
  
Meric ground his teeth together, and forced himself to remain calm. A thousand things could have delayed them, he thought to himself. So calm down! He had no idea why he was so edgy lately, but ever since Dagnirion had visited him and Andre, he had been getting the awful feeling that something was going to go terribly wrong. All he wanted to do was get this job over with and away from that demonic guild master.  
  
Something about Dagnirion scared Meric, and he would be the first to say that he didn't frighten easily. No, that man was definitely more than human, or Meric was an extremely tall dwarf. Snorting softly at the thought, Meric shook his head, and turned back to watching the ever- darkening sky.  
  
"And now you're talking to yourself." Andre said grinning as he sheathed his sword. "I've always known you were partially cracked, Meric, but I must admit that I didn't think talking to yourself was your thing. I was leaning more towards torturing small animals."  
  
"Now Andre, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Meric protested mockingly. He then paused and looked thoughtful. "I'm more the torturing defenseless women and children type."  
  
"Ah." The dark-haired man replied seriously. "Yes, you're right that does sound more like you. Hmm, no wonder they kicked you out of Lothlorien."  
  
Meric's face clouded at the mention of his childhood home, and Andre grimaced. He really needs to get over that, the man thought. It's been nearly two centuries!  
  
"I'm sorry, my friend, I shouldn't have said that." Andre said apologetically, placing a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "That was stupid."  
  
Meric looked up and grinned. "Think nothing of it, Andre. It's stupid of me to still be touchy over it." Suddenly, his grin became wider as he cocked his head to the side listening carefully.  
  
"What is it?" Andre asked curiously, straining his own ears, but only hearing the forest sounds.  
  
"Our friends have finally arrived."

-----

**tbc...**


End file.
